Durassic Pawk
by Child of Loki
Summary: Saturdays were his favourite days. As requested, some 'Memily' babies... Pure, pointless Matt/Emily fluff.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Primeval or its characters…**

**Author's Note: A couple people voiced their desire for some fic with Matt and Emily babies (since it didn't work out for **_**Missing Pieces). **_**Well, here you go. Some fluff (that was almost sweet enough to make me vomit).**

**Warning: No real plot. Or explanation as how they got this point, either…

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There was nothing more blissful than a Saturday morning. Waking up and knowing there was nowhere else to be. No appointments. No plans. No creatures. And no anomalies.

Well, there _were_ all those things. They just weren't Matt Anderson's problem. Not today. Saturdays were his days off. Come hell or high water, the ARC did not exist for him today.

And the morning sun seemed to be as happy about it as he was, reaching out with buttery warm rays, creeping across the room to caress the mound of duvet beside him. Except for the slender arm protruding from the mass to fall across his chest, the pool of dark unruly hair upon the pillow, and the barely audible rhythmic breathing, there were no signs of life from the other side of the bed.

Closing his eyes with a contented smile, Matt began to doze once more only to be roused by the sound of pattering feet. He prepared himself for the fiercest kind of creature attack known to man as he heard the tiny footfalls increase to a run. And then he received a blow to the stomach, a sharp battle cry being simultaneously released.

"Da!" The little girl squealed, bouncing slightly on his stomach. He employed the only defense effective against such attack, and played dead. The child's weight shifted, and he could feel small, clammy hands on his face.

"Wake-up!" she cried. He continued to pretend he was asleep until her anxious little self stilled in disappointment. And then he grabbed her, flipping the child on her back and tickling her fiercely until she was screaming with laughter and merry protestations.

"Honestly, you two!" an insincere admonishment was issued from the other side of the bed, and the beautiful face of Matt's wife appeared as she rolled over to face the ruckus, their three year old daughter still squirming and giggling between them.

"Are you going to wish your mum 'good morning', Suzie?" Matt inquired of his daughter.

She turned to Emily, sitting up and kissing her mother on the cheek. The woman smiled and then looked bemused as the child began to pull the covers off from her.

"What are you doing, my darling?" she asked the little girl who had begun to tug on Emily's shirt. In fact, it was one of Matt's that had been commandeered by her to sleep in. Even with the space created by their size differences, she was pushing the limits of the garment with her very round middle.

Suzie, having exposed a portion of Emily's pregnant belly, put her small hands on the bare skin and gave it a peck that appeared to tickle the mother.

"Mornin' baby brotter," Suzie greeted her unborn sibling.

"Thank you, Suzie," Emily said, adjusting the shirt to cover her stomach and running a hand tenderly over the bulge.

The little girl turned her attention back to her father.

"Da-ddy," she said in a voice he recognized all too well. Suzie had long ago figured out that Matt was the soft touch of her parents. The little girl had dark hair (presently a rat's nest) and her mother's eyes. And a round, cherubic face. She refused to colour in the lines and sometimes had to be scolded for her inability to play well with others (but at least she seemed to be doing alright with her brother who had not yet been born.) And Matt absolutely loved her to pieces.

"Durassic Pawk?" she asked, eyes -every bit as big, brown and expressive as her mother's- pleading with him.

"_May I please watch Jurassic Park?_" Emily corrected their daughter.

Suzie was having a difficult time learning to speak properly, in the manner young children with parents who spoke with different accents sometimes did. Doubtless, she would settle into one or the other eventually and concentrate on her words harder. Or given her affinity for American movies, and one in particular, she'd develop a speech pattern not remotely affiliated with either.

Her face screwed up with concentration as she mimicked her mother's words. And then smiling, she added, "Pease?"

"Matt," came Emily's warning voice. Their little girl had developed an unhealthy obsession with that movie. Thank you 'Uncle' Connor for introducing her to it. It wasn't exactly recommended for three year olds- although she was nearer four now- but Connor of course was oblivious to that fact. He had simply seen Suzie's spontaneously developed adoration for dinosaurs and decided the best way to nurture it was to sit down with the child, eat a whole bowl of popcorn between the two of them and revel in the Spielberg creature adventure.

Surprisingly, there hadn't been a single nightmare resultant. It just seemed to fuel her nascent interest in the prehistoric monsters.

The little girl had no idea that her parents worked with real life dinosaurs and the like. They never discussed it at home, especially in front of her. Maybe they had left reference books open about the house and she had come across them, incorporating them into her fertile imagination. It didn't seem likely, given Emily's affinity for tidiness.

Yet her bedroom had been redecorated in a motif of pterodactyls, tyrannosaurus, and brontosaurus. They were constantly finding plush incarnations of the creatures strewn about the house. And unlike most girls her age, she was not currently dressed in a pink frilly nightgown. Rather she adorned a pair of little boy boxers with a t-rex motif. Her black t-shirt sported the 'Jurassic Park' logo. Matt had seen it in a second-hand shop that had been torn apart by a group of _sinornithoides. _Of course, he had gone back to get it for her. It was hard to refuse his daughter such encouragement of her individuality.

Admittedly, it was hard for him to refuse her anything.

He got out of bed, catching the excited child as she jumped up and threw herself at him.

"Just the once," Emily asserted with finality. Matt inclined his head in concession to his wife and then proceeded to carry his daughter through the house, setting her down when they reached the den. She ran to turn on the television and player, a bounce in her steps, as Matt went to pull the DVD off the shelf.

Ow. Raising his foot, he discovered the source of the pain. With a sigh, he bent over to pick up the little plastic stegosaurus.

"If I step on Stevie one more time, he's going back to the Jurassic," Matt scolded. The little girl looked to him with wide, anxious eyes.

"I sorry," she offered, running over and hugging his knees. She looked up at him with puppy dog eyes. "Can I keep 'im? Pease?"

Good lord, the child had him wrapped around her tiny finger. He placed the stegosaurus who had nearly crippled him on half a dozen occasions into her eager hands. She resumed her spot on the floor amongst her various dinosaur toys, and patiently waited for him to put in her DVD.

He watched her play. The movie seemed to serve more as background noise, Suzie only looking up at it for her favourite parts. She knew it so well that she anticipated all the parts that showed the dinosaurs. And Dr. Grant, who he knew to be her favourite character.

Today in the little girl's world, two plastic raptors were after an action figure resembling Jeff Goldblum -thanks again to Uncle Connor. Sometimes Matt would participate in his daughter's play. It was certainly much better than tea parties, even if he sometimes had difficulty following her innocent logic, a logic unimpeded by the rules of the world. All the same, he thoroughly enjoyed watching her imagination at work.

Slow, slightly unsteady footsteps alerted Matt to his wife's presence before the slender fingers squeezed his arm. Standing beside him, she leaned her head against his shoulder. Her other hand was unconsciously caressing her belly in slow circles. She was due in a couple of weeks, but her behaviour and apparent discomfort caused Matt to question whether she'd pop at any moment.

"We could be doing worse, couldn't we?" Matt asked, eyes studying their daughter.

Emily turned to face him, a joyous smile lighting her face. She quirked an eyebrow, and still rubbing her belly, said, "We'll soon have a lot more opportunity to make mistakes."

He laughed.

"Too true."

Then still smiling, he took her face in his hands and kissed her slowly, savouring the lips of the mother of his children, the woman he loved more than life itself.


End file.
